Read Tyler & Stella (Tattoo Thief) for Free Online Page B

it might go.”
    This is cool. I’m learning. I ask him about the future.
    That’s where Tyler balks.
    “I can’t predict that, Stella. Who knows where we’ll go next? But what I do know is that we’re more solid and healthier that we’ve been in a long time. Lulu’s death was a tragedy, but it was also a gift. It brought back our perspective, which has gone pretty haywire in the past year.”
    “How has your perspective changed?”
    “I think we’re different people now that we’ve been through all of that. Gavin especially, but all of us. It made us wake up and realize what’s important.”
    “And what’s important to you?”
    Tyler thinks, really thinks, before he answers. “My family—my mom and my band mates. I like that the band’s had success, and making it was always really important to me…”
    He trails off, so I supply the “But?”
    “But the price is really high. There’s not much privacy, and no margin for error.” Tyler looks haunted, like some unknown demon is pecking at his flesh. It makes part of me want to hold and comfort him, but the reporter in me pushes that girl out of the way and presses the issue.
    “Error? Like what?”
    Tyler sighs heavily and sets his guitar back on its stand. “It’s hard to know who to trust. When you get success, it paints a giant target on your chest. Everyone wants something.”
    I stop taking notes. Does Tyler trust me? After what I’ve done to Beryl, I doubt it, so I change the subject.
    “Why do you have all the tattoos? Are you just cultivating a bad-boy image or do they mean something?”
    Tyler grins. This is something he wants to talk about. He squats close to the drum set stool to give me a closer look at his long, muscled arms.
    “They all mean something,” he says. “They’re not about being a rebel, they’re about my history.”
    I shudder. My history is not something I want to remember, much less ink into my skin. On one of his forearms I see a raven, a fingerprint, twined bass and treble clefs, and a handful of snowflakes. Tyler shows me his other arm and explains a stylized compass rose—he and two friends got lost on a hike and spent an unexpected night in the woods.
    “It’s like wearing your heart on your sleeve,” he says. “This one’s my favorite.” He pulls his T-shirt to the top of his shoulder and points to a retro sailor tattoo, complete with an anchor, a heart, and a scroll that says Mom .
    The vodka makes me brave and I run my finger over the anchor. His skin is hot and electricity zips up my arm. His coffee-brown eyes darken and I swear he felt that current, too.
    “How—how many do you have?” I stutter.
    “Nine.”
    “Can I see more?”
    “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” His grin is rakish and tempting.
    “I don’t have any.”
    “Yet?” Tyler cocks his brow.
    “I don’t want to wear my mistakes. When I get a tattoo, I want it to be about the future.”
    “See? You said when , not if . You’ll get one. Then you can show me yours and I’ll show you the rest of mine.”
    Unnnh . My mouth goes dry. Is he flirting?
    “In one interview, Gavin said you copied someone’s tattoo.”
    Tyler frowns. “It’s the only tattoo I regret. I was trying to be tough, you know, when I started the band. Gavin and Dave and Jayce were cool. They had game. They had girlfriends, even when we weren’t famous. I could barely talk to girls.”
    My heart warms to the idea of this deliciously muscled man in front of me squirming and striking out with the ladies. “So you decided to get a tattoo?”
    “Yeah. There was this guy—he was a senior and I was a freshman in college—and he had this gun on his arm. I thought it looked edgy. So I got one, too, but when he saw mine, he got all pissed that I copied him. A few nights later he spray-painted TATTOO THIEF across my mom’s garage door.”
    My eyes widen. This isn’t a story I’ve heard before. I scramble to jot down details in the notebook I’d